Through the crown of the sakura tree - 22
Author: hikjang / delsogno
Fandom: DB5K
Pairings: Changmin x Junsu, Yoochun x Junsu, Yunho x Jaejoong
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They are not mine.
Theme music: Rachmaninov Prelude Op. 23 no. 5 - Vladimir Horowitz
“Changmin?”
Junsu asked, as he watched Changmin walk past him into the apartment. Changmin took off his suit jacket and tossed it next to him on the rug as he sat down at the low table, casually as if he owned the place. “Well, you slept at my place last time. It’s time I stay at yours. Fair game, right?”
Not waiting for Junsu’s answer, Changmin took up the pile of paper on the desk. “What is this that you are reading so late at night?” Changmin said, not wanting to give Junsu any chance to ask questions about his sudden appearance.
“…Rachmaninoff.” Changmin heard Junsu. “I’m doing the sight-reading of one of his piano concerto.”
Junsu was still there at the door, eyes on Changmin. It irked Changmin, so to pretend he didn’t even notice, Changmin exclaimed with a fake sense of amusement, “Wow, hard stuff we have here,” at the music score in his hands.
After a few minutes, Junsu still had not said anything.
Changmin felt relieved. According to what he knew about Junsu, if by then Junsu had not asked, it meant Junsu would not ask. Changmin just wasn’t in the mood of answering anything.
With peace in mind, Changmin finally let some of what he looking at enter his mind.
“… really… hard stuff here…” Changmin said to himself as he examined the sheets of paper. Changmin was perfect-pitched, but … Well, this was a bit too much even for a perfect-pitched person.
For, perfect pitch also has several kinds. Like Changmin, he could know what four or five notes will sound like together, or, when he hear four or five notes being played at the same time, he was able to tell what notes they were. It was considered quite good already, but apparently not enough for this thing he was reading.
Junsu’ absolute pitch was different. Junsu could tell the names of 9 to 10 notes in a piano chord, along with notes played by other instruments at the same time. He could also, as a result, read a symphony as comfortably as people read books.
Changmin took a thorough look at the first few pages. He could see how many instruments were involved in this score: a piano, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, bass drum, snare drum, cymbals, and strings.
Looking at the chords of 9 notes together in parts of the concerto, Changmin could imagine how ferocious the cadenza would sound like. One also has to have excellent techiniques to be able to handle these climaxes.
Changmin’s immersion in the music score was interrupted when he suddenly smelled something really nice.
Changmin immediately put the pile of paper down. In front of him there were a tray with two bowls of noodles, seemingly having appeared from thin air. On top of the yolk-colored strands of noodle, chicken stir fried with soya sauce stayed on a bed of green vegetables and onion. Though looking simple, the whole thing smelled extremely attractive. Changmin couldn’t help his salivating profusely.
Junsu sat down in front of a wide-eyed Changmin. He cleared up the table of all paper sheets, then gave Changmin a pair of chopsticks, “Here, eat.”
“You look like someone who had been left starving for years.” Junsu added, without looking at Changmin as he was stirring up his noodles.
All words left Changmin.
The coldness outside could still be felt in the sorethroat he was having, but as his hand touched the bowl of noodles, the heat rendered his fingers numb. A lump was suddenly there in his throat, making him unable to utter a sound.
Changmin watched Junsu eating, his head not able to think anything, until Junsu looked up and said, “What? Eat or it will get cold.”
Then, Changmin let out a weird sound - almost like a laughter, but not quite. He stuck the chopsticks inside the noodles, and started stirring things up. He rolled the noodles around the chopsticks and started wolfing it down.
It hit him, the amalgam of tastes, but most notably the taste of chilli. The hotness went up with the steam to his eyes, making his eyes watery. The taste stung on his tongue, and was the most real feeling he had got, after the slap his abeonim had given him.
Since that slap, Changmin had stopped thinking, avoided thinking. The only thing he felt was numbness.
But, now, Changmin could reflect. Changmin did not regret what he had done that afternoon, criticizing his father, but it was something even in his dreams Changmin had never thought of. It had made him realize something: Architecture was perhaps not a mere hobby like he had always thought, but love - a love so strong it made his heart throb. Changmin had no idea how or why it all happened, why the realization chose this time to come to him, but all didn’t matter. When one realized his love, it all didn’t matter. Changmin had no regret about what he had done in the headquarters.
Though, at the same time, he knew not where he was heading to. He knew not what his abeonim had in store for him, and knew not how his life would turn out to be. It was all a mystery. The only sure thing was that he didn’t want to give up on what he had just come to terms with.
The tears only got out more in abundance, until Changmin couldn’t tell if it was because of the hot chilli, or because something else in him just burst out. He couldn’t breathe through his nose anymore, but had to occasionally stopped eating to inhale, and to let his tears roll out of his eyes.
Junsu definitely heard him. But when Changmin looked at Junsu, Changmin could see Junsu’s long eyelashes directing only downward to his bowl of noodles. Despite the effort, Junsu was apparently bad at pretending nothing had happened, because his eating pace was apparently slowed down.
Until finally he couldn’t pretend anymore, he handed Changmin some sheets of napkin so Changmin could wipe his tears with it.
Changmin gladly took them.
By the time he finished, Changmin was a mess. But he felt so relaxed.
No words had been spoken, but it didn’t matter. Somehow Changmin felt like he had somewhere to go to. In here, no questions would need an answer, and nothing was expected of him, where he could cry freely and not be judged.
Changmin breathed out a smile.
People always said Changmin had the best smile in the world, but for such a long time there had not been any occasions for smiling. Now, finally, he could smile. He wanted to smile.
Upon seeing Junsu’s questioning gaze, he even laughed out loud. He cried and he laughed and it was ridiculous but it all didn’t matter.
Junsu did not smile back, though Changmin could swear there was something really close to that in Junsu’s beautiful, dark brown eyes.
Changmin felt so warm and calm.
Until finally, Junsu stood up with his empty bowl to go to the kitchen. “Well, if you’re so thankful, then do the washing. I have to make some more notes on the scores.”
Looking at Junsu’s prominent butt in the gray sweatpant, Changmin couldn’t help it. “Duckbutt,” he said.
Junsu turned back, throwing a chopstick and it hit right on Changmin’s head. “Screw you!”
Changmin rolled on the floor laughing.
His hand went out of the rug area, feeling the coldness of the granite floor. He looked up to see Junsu’s retreating form, feeling like peace was finally there; like no matter what had been going on, that moment was real and nothing of the cruel real world could affect.
End 22
Fandom: DB5K
Pairings: Changmin x Junsu, Yoochun x Junsu, Yunho x Jaejoong
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They are not mine.
Theme music: Rachmaninov Prelude Op. 23 no. 5 - Vladimir Horowitz
“Changmin?”
Junsu asked, as he watched Changmin walk past him into the apartment. Changmin took off his suit jacket and tossed it next to him on the rug as he sat down at the low table, casually as if he owned the place. “Well, you slept at my place last time. It’s time I stay at yours. Fair game, right?”
Not waiting for Junsu’s answer, Changmin took up the pile of paper on the desk. “What is this that you are reading so late at night?” Changmin said, not wanting to give Junsu any chance to ask questions about his sudden appearance.
“…Rachmaninoff.” Changmin heard Junsu. “I’m doing the sight-reading of one of his piano concerto.”
Junsu was still there at the door, eyes on Changmin. It irked Changmin, so to pretend he didn’t even notice, Changmin exclaimed with a fake sense of amusement, “Wow, hard stuff we have here,” at the music score in his hands.
After a few minutes, Junsu still had not said anything.
Changmin felt relieved. According to what he knew about Junsu, if by then Junsu had not asked, it meant Junsu would not ask. Changmin just wasn’t in the mood of answering anything.
With peace in mind, Changmin finally let some of what he looking at enter his mind.
“… really… hard stuff here…” Changmin said to himself as he examined the sheets of paper. Changmin was perfect-pitched, but … Well, this was a bit too much even for a perfect-pitched person.
For, perfect pitch also has several kinds. Like Changmin, he could know what four or five notes will sound like together, or, when he hear four or five notes being played at the same time, he was able to tell what notes they were. It was considered quite good already, but apparently not enough for this thing he was reading.
Junsu’ absolute pitch was different. Junsu could tell the names of 9 to 10 notes in a piano chord, along with notes played by other instruments at the same time. He could also, as a result, read a symphony as comfortably as people read books.
Changmin took a thorough look at the first few pages. He could see how many instruments were involved in this score: a piano, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, bass drum, snare drum, cymbals, and strings.
Looking at the chords of 9 notes together in parts of the concerto, Changmin could imagine how ferocious the cadenza would sound like. One also has to have excellent techiniques to be able to handle these climaxes.
Changmin’s immersion in the music score was interrupted when he suddenly smelled something really nice.
Changmin immediately put the pile of paper down. In front of him there were a tray with two bowls of noodles, seemingly having appeared from thin air. On top of the yolk-colored strands of noodle, chicken stir fried with soya sauce stayed on a bed of green vegetables and onion. Though looking simple, the whole thing smelled extremely attractive. Changmin couldn’t help his salivating profusely.
Junsu sat down in front of a wide-eyed Changmin. He cleared up the table of all paper sheets, then gave Changmin a pair of chopsticks, “Here, eat.”
“You look like someone who had been left starving for years.” Junsu added, without looking at Changmin as he was stirring up his noodles.
All words left Changmin.
The coldness outside could still be felt in the sorethroat he was having, but as his hand touched the bowl of noodles, the heat rendered his fingers numb. A lump was suddenly there in his throat, making him unable to utter a sound.
Changmin watched Junsu eating, his head not able to think anything, until Junsu looked up and said, “What? Eat or it will get cold.”
Then, Changmin let out a weird sound - almost like a laughter, but not quite. He stuck the chopsticks inside the noodles, and started stirring things up. He rolled the noodles around the chopsticks and started wolfing it down.
It hit him, the amalgam of tastes, but most notably the taste of chilli. The hotness went up with the steam to his eyes, making his eyes watery. The taste stung on his tongue, and was the most real feeling he had got, after the slap his abeonim had given him.
Since that slap, Changmin had stopped thinking, avoided thinking. The only thing he felt was numbness.
But, now, Changmin could reflect. Changmin did not regret what he had done that afternoon, criticizing his father, but it was something even in his dreams Changmin had never thought of. It had made him realize something: Architecture was perhaps not a mere hobby like he had always thought, but love - a love so strong it made his heart throb. Changmin had no idea how or why it all happened, why the realization chose this time to come to him, but all didn’t matter. When one realized his love, it all didn’t matter. Changmin had no regret about what he had done in the headquarters.
Though, at the same time, he knew not where he was heading to. He knew not what his abeonim had in store for him, and knew not how his life would turn out to be. It was all a mystery. The only sure thing was that he didn’t want to give up on what he had just come to terms with.
The tears only got out more in abundance, until Changmin couldn’t tell if it was because of the hot chilli, or because something else in him just burst out. He couldn’t breathe through his nose anymore, but had to occasionally stopped eating to inhale, and to let his tears roll out of his eyes.
Junsu definitely heard him. But when Changmin looked at Junsu, Changmin could see Junsu’s long eyelashes directing only downward to his bowl of noodles. Despite the effort, Junsu was apparently bad at pretending nothing had happened, because his eating pace was apparently slowed down.
Until finally he couldn’t pretend anymore, he handed Changmin some sheets of napkin so Changmin could wipe his tears with it.
Changmin gladly took them.
By the time he finished, Changmin was a mess. But he felt so relaxed.
No words had been spoken, but it didn’t matter. Somehow Changmin felt like he had somewhere to go to. In here, no questions would need an answer, and nothing was expected of him, where he could cry freely and not be judged.
Changmin breathed out a smile.
People always said Changmin had the best smile in the world, but for such a long time there had not been any occasions for smiling. Now, finally, he could smile. He wanted to smile.
Upon seeing Junsu’s questioning gaze, he even laughed out loud. He cried and he laughed and it was ridiculous but it all didn’t matter.
Junsu did not smile back, though Changmin could swear there was something really close to that in Junsu’s beautiful, dark brown eyes.
Changmin felt so warm and calm.
Until finally, Junsu stood up with his empty bowl to go to the kitchen. “Well, if you’re so thankful, then do the washing. I have to make some more notes on the scores.”
Looking at Junsu’s prominent butt in the gray sweatpant, Changmin couldn’t help it. “Duckbutt,” he said.
Junsu turned back, throwing a chopstick and it hit right on Changmin’s head. “Screw you!”
Changmin rolled on the floor laughing.
His hand went out of the rug area, feeling the coldness of the granite floor. He looked up to see Junsu’s retreating form, feeling like peace was finally there; like no matter what had been going on, that moment was real and nothing of the cruel real world could affect.
End 22